


Sold

by KyloTrashForever



Series: ABOhHoHo [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Rey (Star Wars), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Auction For Heats, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, NO dub-con, Omega Ben Solo, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, female knotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-13 22:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: She hears the auctioneer begin to call for bids, and it’s madness, it'sridiculous—but she finds her arm high before she can stop it, again, andagain—until he’s nodding in her direction and calling her number. She can’t eventhinkabout the amount she just spent, but it doesn’tmatter.Hers.This Omega ishers.She’s never been more sure of anything in her entire life.In which Rey never thought she would bid for the right to an Omega’s heat—until she scented Ben.





	1. Wanted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [accidental_amanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidental_amanda/gifts).

> Hello. ❤️
> 
> I opened my CC to Drabble prompts and this one:  
**Ben auctions off his virginity online. Rey wins. Do with this what you will**  
jumped right out and snatched my wig. 
> 
> My brain went weird with it, and I just had to. 
> 
> For Amanda, who is my spirit mom. 💕

* * *

It feels just as seedy as she might have expected.

Low-burning lights and thick plumes of smoke—it’s exactly the sort of basement establishment one might dream up for this sort of thing. 

Not that she’s involved in anything _ illegal. _Just… not what she would prefer. 

The other Alphas linger in their own tight-knit groups, most tall and broad and everything they’re supposed to be. 

Nothing like her.

She ignores their whispers and their stares—used to it by now. She’s not exactly the picture of Alpha, with her slim frame and her delicate features. In fact, _ many _ have underestimated her throughout the course of her twenty-eight years, but she lives with the satisfaction of knowing she’s proven _ all _of them wrong. 

She straightens her blazer as she slides into one of the red leather seats of a corner booth—tucking herself away beyond the bulk of the crowd as she studies her surroundings. 

This isn’t where she thought she would find herself. 

She’s heard the stories, of course she has—about _ the Auction_. 

It’s the sort of thing that’s whispered about in bars and mentioned in the darker parts of the Internet. Not something anyone ever thinks they’ll be a part of. Certainly nothing _ Rey _ ever considered. 

She grips the little black card in her fingers—sporting her number so that she has the capability to bid. 

_ Bid. _

It makes her frown. So _ barbaric. _

She wonders what sort of person might offer such a thing at a price. Then again, she wonders what sort of person would find themselves sitting in this very booth, _ bidding _ on the aforementioned thing.

She told herself that she wouldn’t come, when Poe had come to her with her ticket, informing her that he’d got her a spot. She hadn’t asked how he’d _ accomplished _such a thing—let alone questioned how he knew the ins and outs of the event. 

It’s no one’s business if she has never shared a heat with an Omega. She doesn’t even know why she’d _ told _ Poe. Blame too many drinks after work—but she certainly hadn’t meant to welcome _ this _ sort of assistance.

She doesn’t know why she’s _ here. _

Maybe it’s because she’s lonely. Maybe deep down it _isn’t _enough for her to spend night after night alone. 

Maybe she wants something more.

But she can’t help but think this isn’t the place for that. 

The darkened room doesn’t welcome desires like that. Isn’t the place for anything other than a transaction to be had. 

But she’s here now, and there are people settling into booths all around her, and she clutches her bidding card because she’s just _ observing, _ and it isn’t as if she’ll actually _ participate. _

“Good evening, gentleman.” The auctioneer’s eyes pass over the room, brows knitting slightly as they pass over Rey sitting alone in her booth. “Ah, pardon me, and ladies, as well.”

There’s a collective murmuring that is laced with barely suppressed snickers—and Rey feels bubbling anger in her throat that she quickly swallows down. 

“There are seven numbers on the docket this evening,” the man prattles on. “Each a willing participant I assure you, and each having undergone medical examination to ensure a clean bill of health.”

Rey wants to gag a little. She asks herself again just what it is she’s _ doing _here.

“My benefactors would like me to stress that what happens after this event is completely at the discretion of the participating parties. This was gone over in detail in the forms you were required to fill out online—but they would like that I give a brief reminder. The Auction was intended for the buying and selling of an Omega’s heat—completely at the discretion and desire of the Omega in question. Compatibility cannot be guaranteed outside of the sampling process, so please, be sure only to bid if the scent appeals to you.”

_ Compatibility. _

She almost snorts. How can you determine compatibility by a scent alone? 

She’s been in the proximity of Omegas. Not one of them has caused her to lose her head. This entire thing seems like a shot in the dark. 

But she remains quiet as the auctioneer introduces the scent samples—little metal cases that supposedly contain a personal item from each… subject. 

Rey wrinkles her nose at the auctioneer’s choice of words. _ Really? _

Still, she can’t help the little thrill that runs down her spine at the promise of an Omega’s scent untainted by suppressants, something she’s never experienced. Not something she’s proud of—but biology rarely is.

He works through the cases one by one, a designated Beta passing along the booths quietly as the Alphas seated there handle whatever is inside. She can hardly make out the items from her place at the end of the row, but as she watches them converse quietly amongst themselves—she can’t help but frown at the oddness of it all. 

The first case is presented to her as it was to those before her, and for a moment she considers turning it away. She knows to do so makes her seem prudish—knows it will only invite more whispers and stares—and with that in mind she gingerly lifts the bit of cloth inside that turns out to be nothing other than a pair of woman’s underwear.

She grimaces, dropping them back into the case without a closer look. She can catch the sickly sweet scent of melon and honey from where she sits anyway—and it’s nothing that incites excitement.

_ Underwear, for fuck’s sake. _

Must be a frequent flyer. 

She watches quietly as the bidding starts, trying to remain objective even as her stomach roils with distaste. She decides in her own mind that this was a ridiculous venture. One that she shouldn’t have let Poe talk her into. Knowing she should have told him to go to hell with his entry fee money. 

But he knew the thought of wasting his money would eat at Rey. That bastard. 

Item after item is passed around the room—from a handkerchief to a hair tie to a pair of socks (seriously?)—and by the last item, Rey just wants to go home. Wants to tell Poe to mind his own business next time.

_ Just one more. _

The last is different than the rest—the case larger, the item seeming bulkier in the other’s hands from where she sits.

She wonders idly what it could be. Not that it matters.

When it comes to her, and the case is opened—she reaches inside curiously to pull out a thin, leather-bound book. 

_ What an odd thing to submit for a thing like this. _

She smells nothing but leather upon first inspection, running her hand over the cover that she doesn’t recognize. She traces a finger along the pages between the covers, carefully opening it to a random page and nearly choking on her own tongue. 

She feels the blast of scent from the pages like a physical _ weight—_like an actual _ blow. _

It creeps inside her nostrils and into her senses and through her _ veins _until it’s everywhere. Until there’s nothing else but this. 

She unabashedly shoves her nose between the pages, breathing deep in hungry pulls—calling upon every bit of reason she possesses to keep herself from pressing her _ tongue _ there as well. The pages are saturated with hints of vanilla and some bright citrus like wild oranges and a hint of spice like cinnamon and it’s _ intoxicating. _

She has _ never _felt a fire inside her like she feels right now. 

Her cunt contracts woefully around nothing—her throat dry and her chest heaving because _ this— _ whoever _ this _ is—they belong to _ her. _

She’s never been more sure of anything in her entire life. 

She has to fight the urge to actually snarl at the man when he gently attempts to pull the book from her hands—and she watches him place it back in the case with wide eyes because _ hers—_it is _ hers. _

She hears the auctioneer begin to call for bids, and it’s madness, it's _ ridiculous— _ but she finds her arm high before she can stop it, again, and _ again—_until he’s nodding in her direction and calling her number. She can’t even _ think _ about the amount she just spent, but it doesn’t _ matter_. 

_ Hers. _

This Omega is _ hers. _

* * *

Two thousand dollars. 

Two _ thousand _dollars. 

It isn’t exactly an amount that will break her—not now—not with the business thriving like it is. 

But there was a time when she could barely afford her next meal—let alone spend an exorbitant amount on something as frivolous as a few days with someone.

_ But not just any someone. _

In the back of her mind, something whispers that she would have paid twice as much for it. Something that she doesn’t even quite fully understand. 

The Auction provides a designated space for participants to meet, provides adequate lodging and even stocks the kitchen with provisions—but still she can’t bring herself to knock. The bungalow is tiny, quaint even—and inside there is a person who smells of citrus and sweet and spice and makes her throw away any bit of common sense she’s ever had. 

Someone she’s never even met. 

She swallows around the lump in her throat, clutching the bag she hastily packed this morning, staring at the wood of the door with both trepidation and longing. 

_ There’s no turning back now. _

She lets her knuckles rap against the wood—her heart pounding in her chest as she wonders what sort of person might be inside. 

She wonders if they will be disappointed to learn it’s _ her _ that has come. 

But her thoughts are scrambled, when the door opens, because the person inside is admittedly _ nothing _like she expected. 

Rey is not one to stereotype based on designation. She’s suffered from enough of that herself. But when the door opens to a man well over six feet, wide enough to fill the entire frame—she can’t help the shock that courses through her. 

His brow is furrowed and his eyes are hard, tucked away in a pale face above a soft mouth and all resting under dark, thick hair that begs to be touched. His face is interesting—not one you might conjure up when thinking of traditional handsomeness—but interesting. Something about it makes it hard to look away. She can’t seem to _stop_ looking. 

And his _ scent. _

If the book was a spark of _ something—_this man is a wildfire of _ everything. _

It is like a thousand synapses all firing at once. 

She stands frozen, just looking up at him in wonder, because in her mind she is struck with urges she’s never experienced—urges to pin down, urges to break flesh with teeth, urges to _ own. _

Things that leave her mute, apparently.

“Did the agency send you?”

His voice touches her skin like the brush of fingers—soft, even in its depth. Careful, even in its hardened edge. 

Her voice is tighter than she means it to be. “The agency?”

“Yes,” he manages roughly. 

His voice is so lovely in its gravel. It only accentuates how close he is—and he is _ close. _ She can smell his heat, taste it on her tongue as if it _ drips _from his skin. She wonders if she pressed her tongue to his gland would it taste even sweeter. 

“I’m… No. I’m not from the agency.”

His lips purse. “Well, I’m waiting for someone—so if you don’t—”

“Me,” she breathes. “You’re waiting for me.”

His eyebrows raise in shock, gazing back at her as if trying to make sense of the tiny thing in front of him—and she can’t even blame him. 

_ Inadequate. You don’t fit. _

Words she’s heard whispered all her life—and she’s never felt them like she does now. Not like when this sweet-smelling Omega looks down at her as if he’s unsure if she can take care of him. 

_ I can, _ she screams inside. _ Let me. _

“You… won the Auction?”

She nods. “I did.”

It is several agonizing moments before he steps aside to let her in—a handful of seconds that leave her breathless with worry because _ please_, _ don’t reject me, let me take care of you— _but then his big body moves to the side as he allows her entry—and she feels things she never expected to feel.

Things she never knew she wanted.

* * *

He is fidgeting.

She is still.

There’s distance between them, as she sits quietly in an armchair in the corner, as he rests at the edge at the bed—and she’s still trying to make sense of the way her world has turned on its head. 

Rey has never needed a single person in her entire life, but this thing inside her, the effect she’s almost certain this Omega isn’t even _ aware _ of—she thinks she might need it. 

She doesn’t even know his _ name _ yet, and even though her senses cry out to keep him, _ own _him—she doesn’t want to frighten him. She wants to ease the anxiety she can sense rolling off of him in waves. 

“I didn’t tell you my name,” she says quietly. “It’s Rey. Rey Johnson.”

“Rey.” He tests the syllable on his tongue, and she likes the way it rests there. She wants to give his tongue all sorts of things. “I’m Ben. Ben Solo.”

_ Ben. Ben. Ben. _

She likes it. It _ fits _her. Just like she knows he will, if he allows it. She takes a deep breath, letting that scent—that toe-curling scent that touches and caresses—fill her up. Telling herself to be patient. Because he deserves it. He deserves everything she can give him. 

“Can I ask why you… entered the Auction?”

His eyes avert to the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No,” she tells him quietly. “No it isn’t.”

Does he not see how perfect he is? 

“Do you know what it’s like to be an Omega and look like I do?”

She keeps her expression blank. “Like you do?”

He sweeps a hand down his frame—and her mind dips into what his body looks like underneath his loose t-shirt and sweats. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m too big. Not soft enough. I don’t _ fit._”

Her breath catches, every fiber in her being propelled by a force that urges her to move. To _ go _to him. It’s terrifying, these urges. 

“That doesn’t quite explain why you’re here.”

He stares down at his hands in his lap. “I’ve… spent most of my life hiding my designation.”

“Why?”

His gives her a confused look. “Why?”

“Yes. Why? Are you ashamed of it?”

He furrows his brow, thinking. “I’m not sure if it’s exactly that cut and dry. I am not ashamed of something I was born as—but I am ashamed of the way that it makes me so weak.”

Her eyes rove over strong shoulders and thick arms and she doesn’t think there is anything about this Omega that she would call weak—but still she remains quiet. She wants him to tell her more. She wants him to tell her _ everything. _

“I know how you feel.”

He scoffs. “How could you _ possibly _ know how I feel?”

“Look at me, Ben. Do I look like the picture of Alpha to you? Do you think my life has been easy?”

He does look at her then—eyes brushing over her face and lower—and she doesn’t miss the way he reaches unconsciously for his neck. The way his hand palms the gland there, releasing another burst of his scent that she drinks in greedily, being as discreet as she’s able to be.

“It isn’t easy,” he says quietly. “Being us. I suppose.”

“So you needed money,” she urges gently.

“The grade of suppressants I am used to… they aren’t cheap. When I left my job… I couldn’t afford them any longer. I’m not ready to face the world yet, like I am.”

“Why did you quit then?”

“Because someone found out. Someone that wanted to use it against me.” His jaw grows tense. “Someone that wanted—” He swallows thickly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

She beats down the flicker of rage that someone might have tried to hurt him. That someone tried to _ use _him. 

“Because I asked.” 

“But I don’t even _ know _ you.”

_ You will, _ something inside her croons. _ You’ll know everything. _

“I didn’t mean to pry,” she tells him. “I was just curious.”

“Are you disappointed?” He won't look at her, eyes fixed on his lap. “That it was me you found here?”

Her muscles itch with the need to move. Her fingers clench and unclench, pressing her lips together in an attempt to staunch her urges. 

She manages to lean forward, the movement catching his eye as his gaze flicks up to meet hers. “Were _ you _disappointed?”

He meets her gaze evenly, only shifting a little on the bed as if the weight of her stare unnerves him. She watches his throat move with a swallow, and she imagines settling her lips there. Maybe even her _ teeth. _

She doesn’t let it show how frantic she feels—how unnerved she is by the idea that he might _ actually _be disappointed. 

But when he shakes his head finally, she can’t help but release the deep breath she’s been holding—her body visibly relaxing. “I wasn’t,” he murmurs. “Disappointed.”

She makes a decision then, rising to her feet and stepping across the short distance slowly, _ carefully—_as if she is approaching a wounded animal. 

In many ways she gets the sense that she is. 

He is deathly still as she comes up beside him—eyes wide and dark as she reaches out on instinct. Her fingers card through his hair, her nostrils greedily soaking up every bit of his scent that this stirs, and she isn’t sure who is more surprised that he leans into it. That his head tilts to press his forehead into her palm. 

“You’re burning up,” she whispers. “Does it hurt, Omega?”

He nods heavily. “It has always hurt. I hate it. Going through it alone.”

“Always?” She stills as his eyes flutter open, looking up at her beseechingly. “You’ve… Ben. You’ve shared a heat before. Haven’t you?”

His jaw tenses and his eyes shut tight just as he gives a short jerk of his head. “Never.”

“But you’ve—Surely you have—”

“I couldn’t risk anyone ever finding out what I was.”

“So you’ve… _ Never?” _

Another shake of his head, and she feels some hot possessiveness in her chest. 

_ Mine all mine no one else only for me he’s— _

She closes her eyes against the flare—the potency of his scent making her own blood heat, and she knows they don’t have much time left for this blessed coherence. 

She’s almost sad for it. She wishes she had more time to know him first.

She leans in, bridling her need as best she can as she lets her lips rest against the damp skin of his forehead, tinged with heat. “That was foolish, Omega. Someone might have taken advantage of that gift.”

His voice is breathy and soft now. “Gift?”

“Mhm.” Her fingers slide over his ears, a shiver passing through him as she traces the shell before finding the gland at his throat and pressing against it lightly. “You’re a gift. One I would very much like to have. Do you want me to take care of you, Ben?”

She feels large fingers at her side as they cling to the fabric, and slowly he buries his face in the front of her shirt as he nods slowly. “Yes, Alpha.”

A little tremor of pleasure runs down her spine, and she presses her lips to his forehead once more as he gives a content hum. 

She’s going to take care of him. She’s going to _ keep _him. He’ll never need anyone else.

He just doesn’t know it yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben POV next where they play checkers for three days and braid each other’s hair


	2. Owned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied. No checkers. But did you know there’s a checkers move called a _double hump_? There’s plenty of that at least. And some hair braiding if you squint. But mostly emo porn. 😅

There are many things Ben had considered when he made the decision to enter the Auction. 

He had resigned himself to a horrible experience that he would hopefully be able to bury down deep and never think about again. He had expected some belligerent Alpha who would have taken what they needed and thought little about Ben.

He could have never expected _ her. _

Small enough that he could tuck her into his side, if he wanted. Eyes that capture him, _ hold him— _even as she seems to be unaware of their ability to do so. 

And her _ scent. _

Like chamomile, and underneath—something floral. Something he wants to press his nose to. 

No, he could have never expected Rey Johnson, with her tanned skinned that he wants to taste and her freckles that beg for his fingers to map them. Rey, with her bright eyes and her long legs and just _her—_somehow being nothing he’d expected and yet _everything _he never knew he wanted. 

She smells… _ incredible _now.

Her scent blooms in the air, heavy and thick and _ so sweet— _he can almost imagine he can taste it in its thickness. 

His sweatpants are pushed down around his thighs haphazardly—his fingers clutching at the bedspread as she lazily flicks her tongue against the darkened head of his cock. She laps at the thin trickle of slick that escapes him—and he can’t help but imagine how it will feel inside her. How it will feel to have her knot him inside as he fills her with it. 

She suckles at the end hungrily—as if she is attempting to physically _ draw _more from him—soaking up his tiny whimpers for more as her palms run up the tops of his thighs to find his shaft, wrapping her fingers around it to stroke upwards to meet her lips that circle the head. 

Ben can’t help but watch it happen. Watch her touch him in ways no one ever has. The heat of her mouth is nearly _ unbearable—_her tongue soft and wet and _ hot _against his cock as she sucks him further inside. 

Her voice is almost a purr. “Do you know how you smell right now, Omega?”

“N-no.” He can do little more than shake his head. Little more than whisper a choked reply. 

“You smell wet”—her fingers wrap around the base—“_ hungry”—_she tilts her head to lick a long stripe up his shaft, never tearing her eyes away from his—“you smell like you _ need _ me.”

“_Alpha.” _

“Do you need me, Ben?” Her lips mouth at the sensitive lip just under his glans—her teeth grazing tension lightly as he tilts his hips instinctively. “Do you need this?”

“Yes, Alpha.” He grits his teeth, hardly even knowing _ what _ it is he needs. His blood is liquid fire, his limbs heavy and dense, and something inside is _ begging _for her. Begging for whatever she can give him. His voice is a hushed whisper when he adds: “I need you.”

He feels her fingers curl just under his sac, and he almost swallows his tongue when she ducks her head to lick at the sensitive seam between. His eyes are wet from the tension in his body—her lips sucking at the soft skin below as his toes curl and his chest grows tight. 

She grabs for the band of his sweats—her mouth moving to trail over his thighs as she works them down his legs. She lingers at his knee, her fingers sliding beneath to press into a gland there he’s not even sure he knew existed. Then there’s a soft kiss against his skin—and she’s pulling his sweats away to toss them near where his shirt already rests. 

At any other time he might be embarrassed to be so exposed in front of another person—but she’s already reaching for the hem of her shirt—and he’s left transfixed by the sight of her taut stomach as she slides it over her head gracefully. 

Every part of her is smooth lines and corded skin and her abdomen clenches with her stretch but his eyes are glued to the little pink points of her nipples because how is she so _ pretty? _

She takes in what he imagines is his hungry expression—wasting no time in working her pants down her legs until there is nothing, absolutely _ nothing _ blocking his vision from neat curls and slick pink and he feels himself leaking with need for _ something_. Something only she can give him. 

She settles over his thighs—reaching for his cock as heat fills his belly and her hips rock forward as she wets his length with her cunt. 

She holds him there, working her lip between her teeth. “Do you know how I feel—knowing I’m the only one who has seen you like this?”

He thinks he shakes his head—but his eyes are glazing. His slick streams from him from both ends, coating her fingers and the sheets. 

“It’s indescribable,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushed and her voice tight. “Every breath, every little sound, every bit of _ this_”—she catches a drop of his slick with her thumb, bringing it to her lips to lick clean—“it’s all for me.”

He can hardly think, a white noise buzzing in his head, his throat dry and his body _ so tight— _and she hums sweetly when his hands smooth over the tops of her thighs. 

She leans over him—hands abandoning his cock even as he whimpers from the loss of contact—her hands cupping his jaw instead as her lips brush against his. She rolls her hips, cunt sliding over his cock until his mouth parts with a groan. 

“Shh,” she soothes. “I’ve got you, Ben. I’m going to take such good care of you. Would you like that?”

He nods, eyes screwed shut as he chases her mouth helplessly—reduced to little more than animal as he seeks relief for the burning inside him. 

She licks at the corner of his mouth, sliding her hand between them to grip his cock as she lifts her hips. He makes some panicked sound, because it’s too new—too _ much _ —it’s scary and foreign and _ everything he needs. _

Her thumb grazes his jaw. “It’s okay. It’s _ okay. _I’ve got you. Trust me, Ben.”

He nods, mindlessly trying to capture her mouth—sighing in relief when her tongue slides over his. 

His mouth falls open in a wordless cry when he feels warm and wet at the head of his cock—and he has to shut his eyes as the slippery walls of her cunt draw him inside. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. “_Fuck. _I can’t—I don’t think—”

“Whatever you need,” she tells him breathily. “This is for you now. Whatever I can give you, Ben.”

He feels his cock swell_ — _ and even he knows it’s too soon. But he can’t stop it. It’s too much. It’s _ far _ too much. He’s barely even all the way inside when he begins to come, but Rey just takes him deeper, takes him _ all the way— _and he wraps his arms around her, if only to bring her closer. 

He nuzzles against her throat, tongue flicking out to taste her scent that explodes on his tongue—shifting his hips as his head fogs and his blood roars.

“That’s it,” she coos. “You’re still so _ hard. _ It’s because you need me.” She extends her neck to let him continue his mewled nibbling there. Her hand snakes between them, and he feels her fingers moving between her legs. “Your slick”—her breath huffs against his shoulder—“it makes everything tighter. Makes everything”—he can feel her cunt flutter around his still-leaking cock—“_better.” _

He can hardly manage coherent thought—reduced to murmuring her name over and over in a steady chorus of _ Rey Rey Rey. _

Her tongue flattens over the larger gland at his shoulder, and a jolting pleasure he’s never felt zings through him—making him feel almost as if he’s on fire. “I’m going to knot you,” she growls, her hand moving faster against his stomach. “Do you want that? Tell me you do, Omega.”

“Yes,” he rasps, sucking what is surely a bruise at her throat. “Please, Alpha. _ Please.” _

“Mm. Ben. _ Ben. Fuck.” _

He practically shouts when he feels her cinch around him, so tight that he has to squeeze his eyes shut. He feels liquid at the corners—leaking out to trickle down his cheeks—the sensations too much. Leaving his body feeling overworked and overrun. 

“_Breathe__,” _she whispers. “Just breathe, Ben.”

The air rushes out of him, unaware that he’d even been holding his breath—and she’s there. Brushing the hair from his forehead, pressing her lips there, over his cheeks, against his mouth. 

“So good,” she murmurs. “You did so good.”

His limbs feel heavy, his mind like mush, and he’s never felt so sated. Never felt so _ content _as he does in this moment. He feels his eyes droop—the tension from everything that built up to this loosening to give way to blissful fatigue that eluded him for days. 

She covers his mouth, murmuring against it, “Sleep, Omega. You need to rest.”

He nods wearily, nuzzling in her hair as he rolls to the side—tucking her into his chest as his breath goes steady. 

“Sleep,” she repeats softly. “Sleep, Ben.”

The last thing he remembers is her mouth on his.

* * *

Ben’s memory of the first day is reminiscent of ripples on a pond. 

Fluid, fleeting, offering an obscured picture in augmented pieces. 

The sensations are bright—the happenings not as much. Her scent is like a weighted blanket, wrapping around him and keeping him sated and warm. 

There are moments when he imagines fingers in his hair—slim digits overlapping the strands against his scalp as she murmurs soothing words of praise. Other times it is only the hot press of her tongue at his glands, inside his mouth, over his _ cock—_tasting everywhere she can reach. 

But the brightest instances, the most vivid pieces of memory, are the moments where her body is flush with his. When he is rooted deep inside her, rocking into her, _ filling _ her—it is only these moments where everything shines with clarity. Even through the haze of his heat—her voice and her warmth and _ her _break through the fog to make him feel like he isn’t drowning. 

Sometimes he covers her; sometimes she covers him. There is a constant closeness though—always holding her tightly against him as if she is the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. 

He’s terrified by how he’s becoming addicted to the feeling. 

Addicted to _ her. _

When he dozes, he dreams of what it might be like to wake up during the night—_any night—_and reach for her on the other side of his bed. Of knowing the simple pleasure of the reassurance that she will _ be _there.

It’s dangerous, and foolish, and he can’t _ help _ himself.

Her fingers brush away the hair from his forehead—drifting further to curl at his nape as she pulls him to her mouth. His arms cage her underneath him, his hips undulate against hers in a steady rhythm. It’s easier now, like breathing almost—being with her in this capacity. 

It feels like it’s always been this way.

Her fingers tug at his hair, and he groans into her mouth. “So good, Ben,” she murmurs. “_So good _for me. Are you close?”

He manages a shaky nod, his nostrils flaring as he grinds deep, rolling his hips only to stir her up inside. 

She licks at his lower lip, urging him to open, and her hand settles at his waist, pulling him closer as her legs wrap around—his body so flush with hers that they are nothing but skin against skin. 

“Perfect,” she coos. “You’re _ perfect.” _

Her praises washes over the most basic parts of him—that part of his being that is desperate to please her practically purring in content. 

He thinks she can _ sense _it. What it does to him.

He thinks that’s why she never stops.

“Perfect Omega,” She rasps. “So good”—she slots her mouth against his as he withdraws from her cunt, gasping as he thrusts back inside—“and _ strong”— _ he drives into her roughly now, that now-familiar pressure cresting to unbearable levels—“you were _ made _for me, Ben.”

He thinks he says her name when he comes—in a whisper, perhaps in a shout—it’s hard to say. Everything is white noise and the echo of her hushed words of praise that still brush along his skin. 

As she locks him inside he reminds himself how dangerous it is—to store her words away. To lock them away like a secret. Like _ promises. _He knows it might be the worst mistake he could make.

Because there is no way to hold her to them. No way to know if this is a handful of days of just _ this _—or if it might be something more. If all that he feels lives only within him, or if by some perfect miracle she might feel it too. 

But he can’t stop it—that flicker of hope. That little spark of yearning. 

Because as her fingers card through his hair, as her body curls into his as he pulls them to their sides, as her mouth continues to gift him with sweet assurances of how _ good _ he is, how _ perfect— _ all the things he’s never felt until this moment, until _ her—_he can’t help it.

He thinks maybe he was made for her too.

* * *

“Tell me about your life,” she whispers, her finger tracing his sternum in a slow up-and-down. “Before.”

It’s an odd conversation, considering she’s sprawled over his chest and he’s locked deep inside her for what has to be the dozenth time in the last forty-eight hours—but coherent moments are so precious, he’ll take whatever he can get. 

He clears his throat. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she muses quietly. “Anything. Wasn’t it lonely? Hiding away like that?”

He closes his eyes. “Yes. It was very lonely.”

She doesn’t respond right away—instead turning her face to press her lips to his breastbone, lingering there for a few precious seconds as his chest gets hot with some strange emotion. 

“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I can’t imagine.”

He’s had the best of reasons over the years—but the intrusive thought of _ perhaps I was just waiting for you _creep into his mind—and he knows it’s dangerous to think that way. Dangerous to think she might want him outside of this. 

No one could ever want him outside of this.

But she’s here now, so he wraps his arms around her a little tighter. He kisses her hair because she doesn’t seem to mind. He breathes her in. 

“What do you do? Outside of this.”

Her lips trace the outer edge of his pectoral—trailing to his nipple where she lightly flicks her tongue, and he almost forgets what he’d asked.

“I run a software development company,” she tells him flippantly. “It’s still fairly new—we just got off the ground two years ago, but we’re doing well.”

“Wow, that’s”—he closes his eyes as her lips enclose his nipple, reveling in the swirl of her tongue there—“impressive.”

“Mhm.” She brushes her nose back-and-forth against his skin. “Tell me about why you left your job.”

He grits his teeth. “I told you, I—”

“I want to know about the motherfucker who tried to extort you.”

There’s a violent edge to her soft tone, and for whatever reason it sends a thrill down his spine because _ Alpha will protect you Alpha is here. _

His jaw tenses as he attempts to swallow. “He was my boss. I’d worked for him for years—and it was always a tense relationship. He wasn’t a good man, but he opened doors. Created opportunities I might not have been afforded otherwise.”

He looks down at her to find her peeking up from underneath her lashes, listening intently. “It’s okay. Go on.”

“I’d forgotten a dose of my suppressants. I was careless—_ stupid— _ it was something I’d never done before. I can’t even say why, it was just one reckless accident… but that’s all it took.” He draws in a deep breath through his nostrils. “It was worse after that. He held the secret over my head. Got me to do things I would have _ never _agreed to—such shady things for a company I’d come to despise.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “And then one day, in his office… he asked me to—”

“_Did he touch you?” _

Her voice is a snarl, and warmth courses through him as he holds her tighter. “No,” he assures her softly. “He only suggested that my future at the company might be in jeopardy if I didn’t… Well. You can imagine.”

Her chest rises and falls heavily with relief. “So you left.”

“I left.”

“And you found yourself here.”

He is quiet for a few moments, watching her face as she reaches to brush his hair from his forehead. She does that often, it seems, and Ben is terrified of the way he’s becoming attached to it. 

“I did,” he answers quietly.

She turns her face to press a kiss over his heart. “That was very brave.”

“Brave,” he snorts. “I ran away. Just like I’ve always done. Always _hiding_.”

“You changed your entire life because you refused to be used,” she asserts. “I would call that very brave, Ben.” She rests her chin against his skin, brows furrowed in thought. “Besides, what if you weren’t hiding?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“What if you were just… waiting?”

His breath catches. “Waiting?”

“I know you don’t know me… and I don’t know you… Not yet. But I… I can’t help but think it means something.”

“That… what means something?”

“Look at us, Ben,” she says quietly. “Two people, always alone. Always worried that we don’t _ fit, _ and yet”—she turns her head to rest her ear over his heart, closing her eyes as she listens to the _ thump _ beneath his skin—“look how well we fit _ together.” _

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, but he’s too afraid to voice what he suspects she might be suggesting, too afraid that he’s wrong. 

“Rey, I—”

“I’ve never felt the way I do with you,” she admits softly. “Not with anyone else.”

She can’t want him. He has nothing to offer her. Nothing at all, and yet there are images in his mind that flood his senses—images of waking up next to her and holding her at night and even little freckled faces that have her eyes and it’s _ impossible _that he could be thinking of this—impossible that he could see it all laid out as if designed. 

But his instincts beg for it. His instincts tell him that she will _ give _it to him.

She leans up, and he notices then that her grip below has begun to loosen—a tight slide over his cock as she reaches to nuzzle his shoulder. Her nose brushes over the largest of his glands, drawing a hissed breath between his teeth, and he can feel that pulsing heat throb beneath his skin. Can feel it roaring back to life.

“I wish you could see this,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to his mating gland. “How red it is. How _ swollen_.” She flattens her tongue over the heated flesh, and Ben’s mouth falls open in a helpless whimper. “Do you know why that is?”

He manages to shake his head roughly. “N-no.”

“Because”—she flicks the end of her tongue there lightly, making him shiver—“your body _ knows _ . Knows that you were made for me. Knows that I’ll take _ care _of you.”

He gives a content sigh, giving in to the fevered pleasure building. “Take care of me?”

“Mhm.” Her lips cover his gland, sucking softly, and he thinks he might be coming again. He can’t be sure. “I could take care of you forever, if you let me.”

Even in his haze he knows how crazy this is, knows that she can’t possibly be certain she wants him after such a short time. “Rey, you can’t want—”

She sucks a little harder, and Ben cries out in earnest. “I do. I want you.” She shifts her hips so that she slides back down his cock, wetting his pelvis with _ her_. “I want _ everything, _Ben. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to feel like I do, right now, with you... forever.”

His fingers find her hips, drawing her up and down his cock steadily as his eyes flutter. He feels something inside him purring contently, elated and satisfied because _ Alpha wants us. _

He feels her teeth scrape at his gland, and he tilts his hips forwards reactively—pushing deep inside as her inner walls tremble around him.

“Just like that, Ben,” she breathes against his gland. “Keep going.”

He repeats the motion, rocking upwards at his own pace as he revels in the wet slide of her. “_ Rey.” _

“Do you want me to take care of you, Omega?” Her tongue circles the swollen flesh of his gland. “Do you want to _ belong _to me?”

_ Yes please Alpha take me take me take everything _

But the only rational part of him left is afraid. Afraid that when this is all over she’ll regret it. Afraid that he’s imagining this invisible thread between them that he’s felt since first laying eyes on her. 

He grits his teeth just as she turns her head, pulling at the soft lobe of his ear with her lips. “Don’t be afraid, Ben.” Her voice softens considerably. “_I feel it too.” _

He moans as he snaps his hips harder—jolting her smaller body as he seeks that building pressure—that blooming warmth that promises relief from the greater heat inside. He feels her at his gland—lips and tongue and teeth—and he hears himself tell her exactly what he wants. He hears himself _ beg _for it. 

A tumultuous wave of emotions rage inside him, a culmination of relief and joy and terror—of _ years _ spent alone—and it’s wonderful, it’s frightening_, _ it’s _ so right _—

He can’t say what tomorrow will bring, or the next month, or even the next _ year— _ but when her teeth press down at his skin, when she breaks him open and crawls inside, filling him with new meaning, new _ purpose— _he thinks it doesn’t matter. 

It doesn’t matter what comes tomorrow, or the next month, or the next _ year. _

It only matters that he won’t be spending it alone.

He won’t be alone ever again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this soft af smut. 🥰

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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